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To watch a swarm settle is to witness a kind of violence. They do not land; they collapse onto the branch, each insect grappling for purchase, forming a pendulous beard of chitin and industry. The branch groans under a weight that seems impossible for such small things. The sun is occluded. The world behind them becomes a dappled, shifting darkness.

Silence rushes back in, so absolute it leaves a bruise. The branch, now bare, sways gently. You pull your hand away from the glass. Your fingerprints are the only thing left on the window, and the air, for the first time all afternoon, feels empty. You are alone again. Just you, and the echo of a million wings. enjambre

Mateo looked at the hive. The air around it was vibrating, a low-frequency hum that he felt in his teeth. Thousands of bees were pouring out of the entrance, a living, buzzing carpet. To watch a swarm settle is to witness a kind of violence

Immediately, the air turned frantic. Bees that had missed the crate spiraled in the air, agitated and confused. The sun is occluded